


One And The Same

by wallywesticle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Multi, Past Drug Use, Rehabilitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 18:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallywesticle/pseuds/wallywesticle
Summary: “Moving on,” the doctor says, “we have a new member today. Koenraad, would you like to start us off by telling us what brings you here?” Niklas’ eyes shift to the new patient, Koenraad, and waits for him to answer. The man seems unperturbed, arms crossed stiffly about his chest and eyes opening just a fraction more to meet Doctor Jones’ gaze.“Pass,” he says gruffly, voice deep and accent thick. Flemish? Dutch? Niklas can’t tell. He turns his gaze to Jones before Koenraad catches him staring. The doctor looks taken aback.“I- I’m sorry, what?” The new guy heaves a sigh, one that sounds like explaining himself is going to be such a chore, and it makes Niklas want to punch him right in the teeth.





	One And The Same

**Author's Note:**

> im rly on the nednor train whoops
> 
> Niklas - Norway  
> Koenraad - Netherlands  
> Mikkel - Denmark  
> Dmitri - Romania  
> Dagfinnur - Iceland  
> Luca - Luxembourg  
> Lise - Belgium   
> Nico - Moldova  
> Sarmis - Bulgaria (not sure if I put his name in there or just called him Dmitri's bf whoops)  
> Barry - N. Ireland  
> Aislinn/Dr. O'Shea - Ireland  
> Jack (mentioned) - Australia

Niklas doesn’t like the way his therapist make noncommittal noises and jots things down in a notepad. In fact, he hates it. Anything he says seems to fall on deaf ears, only his behaviour as he speaks is being noted. He’s stopped showing any sign of emotion now, cool façade in place as he tells her how his parents abandoned him and his brother when he was too young to know how to take care of himself, let alone a child. His change of tone makes her look up, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. It’s almost enough reaction to get him to smirk. 

 

Almost. 

 

“Niklas,” she says in her soft voice that makes him feel more anxious than calm, “why are you shutting down? You’ve become so disconnected with what you’re saying.” His jaw tightens, and he watches her start to scribble something in her note pad. 

 

“That,” he tells her, “that’s why.” She pauses, putting the pen down on the paper. 

 

“You don’t want me making notes while we’re in session?” 

 

“No,” he answers lamely. She’s quiet for a moment, but then she takes the book and sets it aside after closing it, lips curled in a kind smile that sets his teeth on edge. 

 

“Alright. I won’t write anymore. Would you care to keep going?” 

 

“No.” She frowns at this, standing slowly and adjusting her skirt. 

 

“Then we’ll continue Wednesday. I’ll remember to leave the book out of it then.” He nods at her before he leaves, moving quick enough to avoid shaking her hand. 

 

Lunch that day is soup and some rye bread. The cooks in the rehabilitation center are much better than he had anticipated, and sometimes he looked forward to the day’s meal plan. The soup smells delicious, and he takes a bowl onto his tray before heading to his usual table. His roommate, a Danish man who seems less normal the more he knew him, is already seated, excitedly talking to one of the only friends Niklas had made in this place. The two of them are perhaps the only people he could tolerate. 

 

“You didn’t tell Doctor O’Shea that,” Dmitri replies matter-of-factly. Niklas glances over at his roommate, Mikkel, eyebrow quirked. 

 

“Did so,” he retorts, catching Niklas’ eye and giving him a grin. Dmitri snorts. 

 

“You told her you were going to titty-fuck her one day and she didn’t beat the shit out of you or have you sedated?” Niklas looks at Mikkel again, bewildered. Mikkel deflates, stirring his own helping of soup with his spoon and sticking his lower lip out much like a pouting child who had gotten caught in a lie. 

 

“Okay, no...But I thought it. I think she’d be down one day. Right, Niklas?” The look his roommate gives him makes him roll his eyes, and he turns his attention to Dmitri who is giggling behind a napkin. 

 

“No, not right, Mikkel. I think Doctor O’Shea is married, and i’m pretty sure you have a boyfriend, right?” Just the mention of Mikkel’s boyfriend (he had one, didn’t he?) makes him wince, and he turns all his attention and energy to his food. 

 

Dmitri is the first one finished eating. He had only a bite of bread and perhaps half his soup. He takes the tray to the conveyor belt that brings them to the dishwashers before returning and taking a seat again, resting his cheek on his palm. 

 

“We have group therapy today after lunch,” he reminds them both. Mikkel smiles bright at them, telling them both how there will be a new person in therapy that day and how excited he is to meet them. Niklas doesn’t share his enthusiasm. 

 

When lunch is over, they go to their rooms for a short time. Mikkel changes into more comfortable attire and Niklas reads a few pages of his book. At precisely two twenty-two, a nurse comes by and takes them both down to the conference room where their group therapy would be held that day. 

 

The room hadn’t any walls but instead floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden only some were granted access to actually visit. Niklas takes a seat opposite the window that showed the most petunias and roses, deciding they’d be a beautiful distraction while the group talked about the reasons they were in rehab in the first place. 

 

Dmitri takes the seat next to him when he arrives, telling him hello and that he liked this room more than the others they had previously had sessions. Niklas nods his agreement but doesn’t say a word. Instead he watches a bumblebee land gently on a daisy. 

 

The room fills up quickly, and soon the therapist enters, a kind young man with blond hair and thick-rimmed glasses. He’s loud at times, but always gentle and patient. Though he’s often obnoxious, Niklas can’t help but like the guy and tries his best not to give him too hard of a time. After pleasantries are exchanged around the room, Niklas takes a moment to scan the participants for a new face, remembering what Mikkel said. He spots the man sitting next to Mikkel, eyes half-lidded and mouth in a stern line. He looks exhausted, perhaps still detoxing, and he seems to be listening to something Mikkel is exuberantly saying to him. Niklas was perhaps a little jealous of how easily his roommate made new friends. 

 

“If all of you have yet to notice,” Doctor Jones says cheerily, “Jack isn’t here with us today. He actually has been discharged and allowed to go home. I hope this inspires some of you to really take control over your lives and addictions so you too can go home.” Though Niklas is happy for Jack, he can’t help but feel annoyed at Jones’ praise. 

 

“Good on ‘im,” a voice from his left says, “he worked hard. Sure he’s ready to see his kid at ‘ome.” 

 

“I’m sure he was, Barry, wonderful of you to be so supportive.” Doctor Jones is smiling at Barry, the brother of Doctor O’Shea, Niklas is certain, and recently two months sober from his alcohol addiction. 

 

“Moving on,” the doctor says, “we have a new member today. Koenraad, would you like to start us off by telling us what brings you here?” Niklas’ eyes shift to the new patient, Koenraad, and waits for him to answer. The man seems unperturbed, arms crossed stiffly about his chest and eyes opening just a fraction more to meet Doctor Jones’ gaze. 

 

“Pass,” he says gruffly, voice deep and accent thick. Flemish? Dutch? Niklas can’t tell. He turns his gaze to Jones before Koenraad catches him staring. The doctor looks taken aback. 

 

“I- I’m sorry, what?” The new guy heaves a sigh, one that sounds like explaining himself is going to be such a chore, and it makes Niklas want to punch him right in the teeth. 

 

“Pass, as in, I don’t have anything to say. I’m sure they’ve all guessed by now i’m addicted to something, but that doesn’t mean everyone needs to know what and why. So, i’ll pass.” His voice is clipped, stern, and it makes Jones’ smile falter just a bit. He clears his throat, recomposes himself, and continues on with the session. 

 

“Alright then, Mikkel. Surely you have something to say.” Mikkel always had something to say, relevant or not. 

 

“Yeah, okay, doc. Well, today is officially three months sober, if that’s anything to anyone but me. I mean, yeah, i’m still here because I can’t control impulses, but three months without beer is a lot for me!” There’s an applause that follows after that, and even Koenraad joins in. Mikkel beams at the praise before he continues on. 

 

“My mom even visited yesterday and said she was really proud of me, so it’s been good on my end. I hope Doctor O’Shea helps me more with impulse control so I can go home.” 

 

“We’re all rooting for ya,” Barry says from Niklas’ left, “sis is too. She’s not allowed to say much because of doctor-patient confidentiality or whatever, but she says you’re makin’ the best progress.” Mikkel beams at that as well, making a comment about how he’ll kiss her the day he leaves. Barry bristles at that, but Doctor Jones puts a hand on his shoulder and forces him to relax back into his seat. 

 

Doctor Jones goes around the room, listening to them tell their tales of addiction, asking others to jump in if they have advice. Dmitri is a better participant than himself, telling Arthur, their friend who was hooked on hallucinogens, that perhaps he didn’t like the drugs but rather the hallucinations that visited him and made him feel less lonely. It must have struck a chord, because Arthur goes silent and thoughtful, and Doctor Jones smiles hopefully. 

 

When they get to Niklas, he’s staring passed Mikkel and Koenraad out at the petunias. Dmitri pinches his arm, getting his attention and nodding towards the therapist. Niklas grimaces, shifting uncomfortably in his seat when he’s asked to speak. 

 

“He’s real shy, Alfred,” Mikkel says for him, “he doesn’t like talking to the group.” Niklas looks at him gratefully, trying to turn his attention back to the flowers before he hears a snort. It’s Koenraad, and he’s mocking his shyness. Or so it would seem, anyway. He tries not to let it bother him, but he ultimately fails that task and turns to Doctor Jones before the man moves on. 

 

“Actually,” he says in a voice stronger and louder than he thought he could manage, “I do have something to say.” Everyone in the room looks surprised, all but the new guy that’s already managed to get under his skin. 

 

“Please, then,” Jones says with enthusiasm, “do tell us.” What Niklas is supposed to tell them, he has no clue. He blinks a few times, willing himself not to look at Dmitri for help, and clears his throat. 

 

“Well, I wanted to say,” his voice is soft now and unsteady and he can feel everyone’s eyes boring into him, “that I put myself in here for my brother. I kept...I’d get really drunk nearly every night and go out looking for fights anywhere I could. I stupidly took him to a bar one night, got in a bar fight, and the guy mistakenly hit him instead of me. So...I came here for him...to be a better brother.” 

 

The room is silent for a long while, and Niklas turns his attention back to the roses and petunias to escape the suffocating tension he’s feeling. He feels Dmitri pat his back in reassurance, but he can’t find the strength to glance over at him. He hears Doctor Jones clear his throat. 

 

“Well done, Niklas, for admitting to yourself and everyone here what alcohol did to you and your family. I can tell you want to make progress, and you’re definitely doing so.” The praise makes him feel numb, and he simply nods his head instead of thanking the man. 

 

It’s not much longer after he speaks that the session ends and they are all granted access to the “game room”. It’s hardly a fun place at all. There’s billiards and a few deck of cards and a TV and a huge bookcase filled with book, mostly self-help. Niklas has already read all the novels in the place in the short four months he’s been here and has gone through half the movies. He got one of the nurses, a short brunette woman with a kind smile, to bring in Dungeons and Dragons for he, Dmitri, and Arthur to play idly on nights where everything else was too boring. Today, however, they played a game of poker before they were all called for dinner. 

 

Niklas is a little surprised when he found Koenraad sitting on Mikkel’s left, no food in front of him and head resting against an open palm. He says nothing, only takes a seat next to Dmitri who greets him happily and starts up a conversation about his younger brother, Nico. He listens to his friend, nodding here and there and chuckling lightly at any shenanigans Dmitri told him they had gotten into. It reminds him of he and his own brother’s relationship when they were young, and there’s a fond tugging at his heart at the thought. 

 

“Did you put yourself in here, Koen?” Mikkel asks quietly, and suddenly Niklas is too interested in the new man’s answer to listen to his friend. 

 

“Kinda. Kinda not,” Koenraad replies vaguely, and it makes Mikkel laugh a little too loudly. 

 

“Come on, buddy, be specific.” Niklas spares a glance at Koenraad and turns his head immediately when he finds him looking back. When Koenraad speaks again, his voice is lower, softer. 

 

“The decision was mine to finalize, but I wouldn’t have put myself in here if it weren’t for…” 

 

“Lise?” Mikkel supplies helpfully, keeping his voice just above a whisper in the best way he can manage. Koenraad makes a noise that sounds like a ‘no’. 

 

“Believe it or not,” he says, “Lise didn’t bring my problem to attention. Antonio did.” Mikkel exclaims what too loudly, and people turn to look at their table. He quiets down after giving them assuring smiles and waits for his friend to elaborate. 

 

“I guess I got too fucked up and just...went to his house. Thought it was mine or something, I suppose. Apparently he had to take care of me or some shit since I shot up too much-” Niklas looks at his arms briefly and notices the track marks and wonders how he missed them during group that day-

 

“When I came to the next morning, he was fucking crying and yelling at me in Spanish. He told me that even if we don’t get along all the time, he’d be crushed if I died on him. I didn’t really know what to do, but that was enough to know I had a problem. I told Lise and Luca what happened, they both were in fucking tears, and I figured ‘fuck, I can’t do this on my own. I guess i’ll go to rehab.’ Lovino brought me here a few days ago. I told him I didn’t want to see Luca or Lise or Antonio because they’d all cry.” 

 

“Lovino didn’t cry, then,” Mikkel states. Koenraad lets out a bitter chuckle, and Niklas feels his skin crawl. 

 

“Blubbered like a fucking baby the moment he saw me. I guess I looked really bad before I got here. Or maybe he was going to miss me. I don’t know. I told him they could start visiting after a week. I’m sure Lise will be happy to see you here too.” 

 

“Yeah,” Mikkel says cheerfully, “tell me when she’s here. I’d love to see her. Luca too. Did either of them tell you what they thought about you going to rehab?” 

 

“We’ll talk later,” Koenraad tells him roughly, eyes narrowed in Niklas’ direction. Niklas pales, turning his head quickly, completely unsure of when he had began to stare in the man’s direction. 

 

Once dinner is over, Dmitri immediately takes off for his bedroom, telling Niklas he wanted to get some sort of nap in before his late session with Doctor O’Shea. He simply nods, watching as he goes before turning to Mikkel. Mikkel isn’t there, however, and he nearly knocks right into Koenraad. Dumbly, he apologizes, trying to side-step around him. Koenraad refuses to let him. 

 

“Hey,” he says, voice a deep rumble, “you eavesdrop much?” Niklas frowns, taking a step back to better look at the man. 

 

“Hard not to when you tell your life story to a bunch of strangers at a table.” 

 

“Oh, so you’re mouthy. Alright, that’s fine. And no, I didn’t tell my life story to a bunch of strangers. I was talking to Mikkel about why i’m in here discreetly while you and Twilight talked about his brother. The whole time I was talking, so was he. Rude of you to ignore your friend to eavesdrop.” Niklas’ jaw tightens. 

 

“His name is Dmitri, and I have no clue why me hearing is such a big deal to you. You just told a stranger you met today all about it. Why am I different?” Koenraad barks out a laugh, shaking his head and calling him an idiot. 

 

“I’ve known Mikkel for the better part of twenty years. I drove him here. Berwald wouldn’t even look at him after the incident, so he asked me to bring him. We’re best buds. Excuse me for trusting my best friend with my personal information.” Niklas is angry, and he wants nothing more than to yell snarky words at the asshole, maybe even throw a few punches, but he knows it’d all be in vain, and he knows it’s his fault, really, for eavesdropping in the first place. Still, his hands tighten into fists, and he glares straight into Koenraad’s face. 

 

“If you want privacy, find an abandoned room. Don’t air out your dirty laundry around all of us.” He doesn’t allow Koenraad another word, he simply turns on his heel and walks out of the cafeteria to his room. When he arrives, Mikkel is flipping through a scrapbook someone had brought him. He looks up at him and offers an apologetic smile. 

 

“You look worse for wear, Niklas. I guess when Koen said he was going to talk to you it wasn’t ‘bout anything nice.” 

 

“I didn’t know he was your best friend,” Niklas opts to say, wanting to keep the conversation steered from the argument he just had. Mikkel softens at the comment. 

 

“Yeah. I know he seems like a tough guy, but he’s a real softy. He just doesn’t like people knowing his life, y’know? He’s kinda private. Kinda like you.” Niklas decides not to ask what he means by that and changes the topic swiftly. 

 

“He mentioned Berwald. Who’s that?” Mikkel winces at the name, and Niklas feels bad for bringing it up at all. 

 

“My boyfriend,” he replies gently, “or maybe ex now. I don’t know…” Niklas reaches over to touch his hand and falters halfway to him, letting his hand fall gently back into his lap. Mikkel gives him a weak smile at the gesture. 

 

“What happened?” His roommate frowns again at this, letting out a rigid sigh and looking at his lap. 

 

“He...he hated my alcohol problem. I mean, now that i’m sober, I hate it. When he and I were together, i’d go out for drinks almost every night. My buddy, Gil, and I were constantly getting into trouble. Berwald got really mad at me for it and told me not to go out as much anymore if I was just going to need a bail by the end of the night.” He pauses, eyes scanning Niklas’ face for disgust and body relaxing when he finds none. 

 

“I came home hammered one night, and he started in with the ‘Mikkel, i’m so sick of you coming home reeking of alcohol and being a drunk mess.’ I was pissed immediately. We got into a screaming match and I…” His voice trails off, and he looks so ashamed of himself, Niklas almost wants to pull him into a hug. He doesn’t, though, and decides to wait for him to continue. It takes a few minutes, but Mikkel finally wipes his damp eyes with the back of his hand and looks at him. 

 

“I hit him. Hard, in the jaw. His whole left side was black and blue. I couldn’t believe he didn’t kick me out right then. I couldn’t believe I fucking hit him. He didn’t even do anything wrong. I was just mad someone was calling me out on being- being a drunk!” There’s a sob that rips its way out of Mikkel’s throat, and he buries his face in his hands faster than Niklas can react. Niklas blinks at him, stunned, and reaches a shaking hand over to pat his shoulder. He has many questions he wishes to ask. Does Berwald visit him? Has he told Doctor O’Shea this? Does Koenraad know the extent of Mikkel’s behaviour? He asks none of them and instead chooses to murmur words of comfort to his crying roommate. 

 

It’s a full five minutes of sniffling and sobbing before Niklas realizes they’re not alone. He spots her, Doctor O’Shea, out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the doorway with a tentative smile on her face. He wonders if she had heard what Mikkel had said or if she simply just arrived. A quick glance at the clock tells him Mikkel is late for therapy, and that’s the reason she has visited them. Mikkel’s crying ceases. 

 

“Mr. Sørensen,” she says gently, and Mikkel immediately sobers, head snapping up to look in her direction. 

 

“Just Mikkel is fine.” He sounds absolutely miserable, “I’ve told you that…”

 

“My apologies,” she responds, “Mikkel, I was worried you were skipping your session. I see you were chatting with Mr. Kallevik. Do you care to tell me what about?” Niklas wants to correct her pronunciation, but he stays silent and chooses to look at Mikkel in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. 

 

“It was…about Berwald…” 

 

“What about him?” Mikkel shifts uncomfortably on the bed and picks at a loose string on his blanket. 

 

“Can we go to your office instead? I don’t- I don’t want to talk here.” Niklas isn’t sure why since the guy had just cried to him about his boyfriend. Still, if he goes with O’Shea now, perhaps she could help him. Maybe she could even arrange a civil meeting between Berwald and him. He silently hopes so, and he removes his hand from Mikkel’s shoulder, standing and moving to his own bed. 

 

“Of course, Mikkel, whatever makes you the most comfortable. I have to admit, i’m happy to see you so open and vulnerable with your roommate. You really are making incredible progress.” Mikkel, despite the tears still on his cheeks, beams at her words and follows her to her office. Niklas, for the first time, figures Aislinn O’Shea isn’t that bad. 

 

Mikkel returns later that evening with Doctor O’Shea walking him in. He looks fine, better than he has in the months he’s been in this place, and O’Shea looks extremely pleased. Niklas allows himself a small smile, setting the book his brother had brought him in his lap and waiting for his roommate to settle onto his own bed. Doctor O’Shea doesn’t leave. 

 

She has a smile on her face, something, Niklas decides, that she doesn’t do often. She’s not bitchy or overly serious, but he supposes listening to people talk about their addictions and what led to them can be very somber. Perhaps she was struggling through something of her own. It wasn’t like they were there to hear her story, however, no matter how interested Niklas was. 

 

“Mikkel,” she begins, her voice sweeter than Niklas has ever heard, “you’ve done incredibly today. And I will definitely look into your request. You’ve earned that much.” Mikkel is beaming like a child, and Niklas chuckles at his enthusiasm. As infuriating as the Dane is, there was always something endearing that Niklas- or anyone for that matter- couldn’t stay angry at for long. 

 

“Niklas,” she’s looking at him now, smile still in place though now looking a tad forced, “may I have a word with you in my office?” 

 

“It’s not Wednesday,” he tells her pointedly. Her smile falters, the corners of her mouth wavering before becoming upturned again. He counts this as a small victory. 

 

“I know it isn’t, and you do not have to come if you do not wish. I just thought we could have a short chat before Dmitri comes to see me. Is that alright?” He feels his eyes harden in her direction, but she doesn’t seem fazed. He hears Mikkel clear his throat and looks over. Mikkel gives him a smile. 

 

“You should go with Aislinn- er, Doctor O’Shea. The more you let out, the easier it’ll be for you to get out of here. Besides, I feel great now that we’ve talked.” Niklas sighs, setting the book on the bed and getting to his feet. Doctor O’Shea looks very pleased at this. 

 

He follows her down the wide hallway, takes a left where it forks, and follows her to precisely the fourth door on the right. The office looks different at night, and he almost wishes he’d have sessions with her regularly at this hour. The ambience is different, calmer. The lighting is dim, yellow fairy lights being the main source. It’s cozy and comfortable, and Niklas feels at ease in her office for the first time. He takes a seat in the chair opposite hers and looks at her expectantly. She sits down, doesn’t grab her notebook like usual, and looks at him. 

 

“Why did you want to talk tonight?” He asks her. 

 

“Your brother visited me just before Mikkel’s session, Niklas.” Any comfort he had been feeling leaves his body immediately at the mention of his brother, and he sits rigidly in the chair. Doctor O’Shea continues. 

 

“He said...he said he doesn’t understand why you haven’t been released yet. Now, I can only allow him so much information without your permission, but I did tell him that despite the progress we’ve made in our sessions, you still refuse to- to feel. Doctor Jones told me you spoke in group today. What changed?” His throat feels tight. Dagfinnur was worried about him, worried that he’d never leave this place. And he was right to worry, and Doctor O’Shea was right about him refusing to feel. Why? He couldn’t figure the answer out. He has wracked his brain many nights trying to find what it is that made him so- so emotionless, so stoic. He must look panicked because she’s holding his hand comfortingly, pulling him back into reality. He lets out a breathy sigh. 

 

“I- I don’t know. I just...felt challenged to say something, I guess… I mean, my brother is-” He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, and O’Shea sees it. He knows she sees it with the sympathetic look she sports on her face. He almost feels patronized but reminds himself she wouldn’t do this job if she didn’t care. 

 

“I can tell your brother means everything to you, just as you mean everything to him. You told Doctor Jones you put yourself in here for him. Can you elaborate on that?” He catches her gaze, gingerly pulling his hand from hers as he tries to clear his thoughts. He had felt he explained the situation well enough in group, but perhaps there was something he had neglected to say. 

 

“I hit him when I got into a bar fight. It was...it was one of those moments where you just- completely sober up. He’s a tough kid, so it only made him stumble, but it gave him a black eye. And he looked so hurt, so betrayed. And I felt like I had betrayed him, in a way. He’s my little brother. I’ve always taken care of him. When our parents left us, I just...assumed the role of caretaker. He needed someone strong for him, and I would be damned if that wasn’t me.” He notices she still hasn’t touched the notebook and rather has all her attention focused on him. The detail nearly makes him smile. 

 

“Did the drinking come after your parents abandoned you?” He winces at the word abandoned. Yes, that is what they had done, but it hurts more to think about when said that way. 

 

“Yes...I was really angry with them, so I started drinking a few drinks every couple of nights to take the edge off. And then all the stress of raising a kid and going to school and work really got to me, and a few drinks turned into seven, and a few nights a week turned into every night. I even- I’d go to work or school drunk sometimes.” He pauses to meet her eye and notices how passive she looks, how sincere she is listening, and he relaxes slightly. 

 

“Dagfinnur knew I was- he knew I was drinking way too much. He’d bring it up sometimes, especially when he got older, but i’d just ignore him and tell him it wasn’t something he needed to worry about. I mean, the kid had gone through enough with our parents leaving. He became a social outcast. He did that to himself, but he needed friends, he needed more than just me.” He pauses again, this time to blink back tears furiously and clear his throat to keep from sounding too choked up. This is what Doctor O’Shea wanted, he supposes, when she had told him to stop becoming disconnected from his emotions. 

 

“Niklas,” her voice is gentle, too soft, and he hates it, “have you ever talked to Dagfinnur about your parents?” He pales. No, he hadn’t ever talked to his brother about them. Perhaps he should have, and perhaps he still should. 

 

“No,” he tells her honestly, hating the sob that escapes him, “I haven’t. I thought- If we don’t- it won’t be like they abandoned us if we don’t talk.” 

 

“But they did abandon you, and they abandoned him. He’s coping by shutting himself away, and you’re coping by drinking yourself into a stupor. Neither way is healthy. Since you two are all you seem to have in this world, you should speak to each other. Really let it sink in, let yourselves feel raw about it. Only then will you start to heal.” Niklas feels his hands shake, and he glares at her bitterly, angrily. 

 

“Yeah,” he spits at her, taking her by surprise, “and how do  _ you  _ cope, Doctor O’Shea? By moping around this place and giving us all fake smiles?” 

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice betrays her steady look. It falters and shakes, and Niklas almost feels bad for pinning her where he wants her. 

 

“Sure you do, doc,” he says with an angry chuckle, “you always look miserable! Do you think we can’t tell you don’t want to be here?” Her shoulders slump, and her eyes cast downwards, and Niklas knows for certain that his defense mechanism for being too open has become too much, too out of hand. 

 

“My husband is divorcing me,” she tells him in a quiet voice, “so please, bear with me as I try to get through this and help you. I don’t mean to come off as...fake.” He immediately knows he’s made a mistake. 

 

“Doctor O’Shea- Aislinn- i’m...i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I just- When I talk too much and feel vulnerable I-” 

 

“Attack people, yes… I figured. I figure that’s why you start bar fights, too…” She’s right, and he hates it. He takes in a deep breath, reminding himself that she’s here to help, not to pity him. 

 

“I’m sorry about your husband,” he opts to say. She presses her lips into a fine line. 

 

“Thank you. We aren’t here to talk about my failed marriage, though, and we only have a few more minutes before Dmitri comes.” He glances over at the clock and nods. He isn’t sure what he could still talk to her about, but then he figures that’s not what she is wanting. She’s wanting him to tell her a solution, a new way of coping. He thinks as the minutes tick by, and she watches him patiently. 

 

“I’ll talk to Dagfinnur,” he tells her suddenly, and she looks genuinely surprised. “I’ll talk to him the next time he visits me. He needs it as much as I do.” She gives him a true, warm smile, and for once, he returns it. 

 

The next morning at breakfast, Niklas finds that Koenraad is joining them once again. He’s talking to Dmitri this time, and the Romanian looks happy to be making another friend. He decides Koenraad isn’t quite as bad as he first thought. He takes a seat on the other side of his friend just as Mikkel comes to sit by Koenraad, eyes red-rimmed and shoulders slumped. 

 

“You look like shit,” Koenraad tells him simply, and Mikkel laughs at the comment, nodding his head.

 

“Yeah...Didn’t sleep well last night. Surprised I didn’t wake Niklas up.” Niklas is also surprised he hadn’t been woken up. It looks as though his roommate has spent the better half of the night bawling his eyes out. He feels a little guilty having not been awake to comfort him. 

 

“What’s the matter?” It’s Dmitri who speaks this time, and Mikkel offers a shy smile, pushing food around on his plate with his fork. 

 

“Well...After I talked with O’Shea last night, I asked if I could call Berwald- my  _ ex- _ boyfriend. We kinda ended things over the phone, ya know? I apologized, he forgave me, and we both decided that even with me getting sober, this isn’t going to work out. He acts more like my dad than my boyfriend most times, and I can’t calm myself down enough to be half the stick-in-the-mud as he. It just kinda...made sense.” Dmitri gives him a sympathetic look while Koenraad pats his back. Niklas sighs and wonders how he had missed all of that the night prior. 

 

“I’m sorry, Mikkel,” he tells his roommate, “you should have woken me.” 

 

“Nah,” Mikkel gives him a hint of a smile, “didn’t want the both of us to be miserable. Besides, i’m fine. I mean, it sucks. I really did care for him and everything, but I already kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work out. I think I just...didn’t wanna be alone.” Niklas knows then that he and Mikkel are more alike than he thought. 

 

They don’t have group therapy after breakfast today. Instead, those without appointments with Doctor O’Shea or Doctor Adnan are told to enjoy their free time how they wanted. Mikkel, Dmitri, and Niklas make their way to the activity room, deciding to watch a couple of movies, while Koenraad is granted access outside to smoke a couple of cigarettes. He tells Mikkel more than the rest of them that he’ll be in later. 

 

It’s halfway through the movie, Nosferatu, before Koenraad accompanies them. He takes a seat next to Mikkel, and though Niklas is on the opposite end of the sofa, he can still smell the tobacco wafting off the other man. 

 

“What took you so long?” Mikkel asks him in a hushed voice. Koenraad turns his head to look at him, right eyebrow quirked slightly upwards. 

 

“What? Did you miss me? I was having a smoke.” 

 

“Were you chain-smoking?” Koenraad leans back into the couch, making himself more comfortable. 

 

“I smoked three cigarettes and then got a phone call. It was Lise. She and Luca are visiting today after lunch. You should join me. I told Lise you were in here, and she’d be awfully upset if you didn’t come say hi.” Mikkel looks like a child that got told he could have a cookie before dinner, and he nods his head excitedly. 

 

“Of course I will!” Niklas wonders if he’ll catch a glimpse of them while meeting with his own brother. 

 

The rest of their free time goes on without any further interruptions. After Nosferatu is over, they switch the movie to a documentary of World War Two. It’s a little boring, and Dmitri ends up falling asleep against Niklas’ shoulder. By the end of it, they’re all groggily leaving the comfort of the sofa to shuffle towards the cafeteria for lunch. 

 

“I think my boyfriend is bringing my little brother today,” Dmitri tells them excitedly after a few bites of food, “Usually visiting hours are during his school time, but they have the week off. I’m really excited.” 

 

“Really?” Niklas asks, pushing food around his plate more than eating it, “when was the last time you got to see Nico?” 

 

“A month ago. I really hope Sarmis brings him. I miss him so much.” Niklas agrees, hoping as well that Dmitri gets the chance to see his little brother today. 

 

Mikkel is unusually quiet at the table today. Between he and Dmitri is where all the socializing really comes from. Koenraad seems to be just as quiet as Niklas, only answering questions directed at him or scolding someone for being an idiot. Now, it’s nearly silent at the table, and it is starting to get to Niklas. He takes in a breath, preparing himself to say something, and is startled when someone else does. 

 

“What’s wrong, Mikkel?” He glances over at Koenraad and then at Mikkel. Mikkel sighs and pushes his plate away from him. 

 

“Now i’m nervous.” Koenraad looks amused by this, and Niklas finds it rude. 

 

“Why? Because you’re about to see my little sister again? The same little sister who used to have a crush on you, and you had one back but thought i’d kick your ass if I found out you kissed her?” Never mind, Niklas sees why this would be amusing for the man. There’s a small, playful smile on Koenraad’s lips, and he thinks the man has never looked so handsome. 

 

“Y-You knew about that?” Mikkel chokes out frantically, eyes wide. His response is a laugh. 

 

“Yes, of course I knew. Luca spotted you both and came running to tell me. I figured shortly after you’d both come to me saying you were dating or some shit. I don’t control Lise’s life, you know. And I know you better than anyone else. You wouldn’t be a douchebag to her.” Mikkel relaxes then, turning his gaze to the table. 

 

“I told her I couldn’t date her because you’d beat the shit out of me, and then she laughed at me. I guess she knew you wouldn’t.” 

 

“No,” Koenraad says, “she just knew if I tried to kick your ass, she’d go and kick mine. I’d really rather not have my ass kicked by my little sister.” This causes the whole table to laugh, and Mikkel instantly looks to be in better spirits. 

 

The rest of lunch goes by without much other chatter. They’re all a little too preoccupied with the idea of getting to see their friends and family to hold down any sort of conversation. They clean up once they have finished their food and head back to their rooms for the remaining half hour before visiting starts. Dmitri is the first one to scurry towards the conference room, and Niklas can tell just how excited he is from the spring in his step. 

 

Dmitri’s little brother runs across the large room when they first enter and jumps into his arms. It’s a precious sight, Niklas thinks, and it makes him miss when Dagfinnur was a little boy who would do the same. Dmitri is giving him kisses and speaking rapidly to him in Romanian. He allows a small smile before going to the table his own brother is seated at and joins him. 

 

“Niklas,” Dagfinnur greets him. He has a tupperware container set on the table, and Niklas itches to open it up and see what’s inside. 

 

“Dagfinnur, i’m glad to see you. I’ve missed you much. How is university treating you?” His brother opens the container for him, offering him an assortment of pastries from a bakery nearby their home he had fallen in love with. He takes a lemon one, thanking his brother and taking a bite he savours in his mouth for a moment too long. Dagfinnur offers him a small smile. 

 

“Good, actually. I’ve, uh, i’ve met someone in my anthropology class. Leon. He’s from Hong Kong. You’d probably dislike him, but…” Niklas looks at him, brow quirked and pastry forgotten. 

 

“You’ve met someone as in a friend or-?” 

 

“He’s my boyfriend, Niklas, and before you ask, I haven’t allowed him to the house. I know you’d hate that.” 

 

“You’re an adult,” Niklas quips, taking another bite of his dessert, “you can do what you want. I shouldn’t be the one to stop you.” His brother says something about him being annoying, he supposes, but he’s far too distracted by the pretty blonde woman excitedly wringing her hands and the man next to her with a shiny smile and extravagant demeanor. The woman stops wringing her hands the moment Koenraad steps into the room, Mikkel behind him, and runs to him for a hug. The siblings he spoke about, Niklas confirms. He decides they all look much more alike than he had anticipated. 

 

“Niklas, are you listening?” He blinks, turning back to look at his brother. 

 

“No, i’m sorry.” 

 

“I asked how things are going in here...if you’re doing better…” His brother is worried about him. He feels himself plastering on a fake smile and then remembers his promise to Doctor O’Shea. He sighs, takes Dagfinnur’s hand in his, and squeezes it. 

 

“I started to a little bit last night. The doctor told me you spoke to her, so we spoke about you last night.” Dagfinnur frowns at this but doesn’t pull his hand away. 

 

“What do you mean about me?” 

 

“I’m glad you met someone,” Niklas says softly, “I’m glad you’re not isolating yourself anymore and becoming more sociable. I know- I know with me just...drinking and telling you nothing was wrong, you didn’t want to go out much. Meet more people who could just...leave.” He feels his brother’s hand quake in his, and he gives it another squeeze to reassure him 

 

“Why are you bringing that up, Niklas?” 

 

“Because that’s my problem,” he admits. “They left us both, their  _ kids _ , and didn’t think twice about it. And I didn’t know what I was doing, Dag, I just knew I didn’t want to fuck you up any worse than our parents  _ abandoning  _ us would. Than it did, I guess. I drank to-”

 

“Drown anxiety and blame and grief? Like I did by holing myself up in my room and playing video games nonstop?” Niklas gives him a sad smile. 

 

“We both have our vices. You’re just stronger than I am, Dagfinn.” Dagfinnur looks quizzical for a moment, thoughtful, and Niklas tries to read what’s going on in his mind. 

 

“Then can I be your rock this time, Niklas? Instead of you always being mine, I can be what helps you get through this. So you can come home.” Niklas blinks back tears harder than he’s ever had to before and nods. 

 

“Yes, Dag, that would actually be best for me. Thank you.” He turns his eyes back to where Koenraad and his siblings had been, watching as the girl (Lise, Mikkel had exclaimed) threw her arms around Mikkel’s neck in a tight hug. His roommate looks happier than he has in the past couple of months, and it makes the corners of his lips curl into a small smile that doesn’t go unnoticed by his brother. 

 

“Niklas,” Dagfinnur says, picking up a pastry of his own, “why did our parents leaving affect you so much?” Niklas looks at him again, brain puzzled by his question. He doesn’t know why it affected him so much. It shouldn’t have, honestly. They weren’t the most doting of people, and they had made him grow up quicker than what he could prepare for. He frowns. 

 

“I don’t know...I guess I just didn’t want to believe they were that bad.” Dagfinnur purses his lips at the answer. 

 

“You know they don’t regret it. If they did, they would have called.” 

 

“I know,” Niklas tells him, grabbing his brother’s hand once again, “I know they would have. And it shouldn’t matter so much. They missed out on watching you grow up the way you did, and they didn’t get to see me off to college and watch me graduate. So it shouldn’t matter. They shouldn’t matter to us because we didn’t matter to them.” There’s a pained look on Dagfinnur’s face, and Niklas knows it’s because he’s started crying. 

 

“Bror,” Dagfinnur says in a soft voice that surprises him, “you matter to me. You matter more to me than anyone else on the planet. You’re starting to act like yourself again, and i’m so glad I haven’t lost you too.” For the first time in four years, Dagfinnur initiates a hug, getting up from his chair and pulling Niklas tight to his body. Niklas can’t suppress the sob that quakes through him as he clings to his little brother, face buried in his shoulder. 

 

“I love you, Dagfinn, and i’m going to get out of here and be the best brother I can be.” 

 

“You already are,” Dagfinnur croaks out, and Niklas feels his tears on the shoulder of his shirt, “you already are the best big brother.” 

 

Dagfinnur didn’t stay much longer after that. He had classes starting soon, and Niklas insisted that he leave and not be late. Their parting was bittersweet, but Niklas feels strangely rejuvenated after their talk. He knows it’s time to really focus on healing old wounds and putting himself back together. If not for himself, then for his strong little brother who looked at him like he was the entire world.

 

He stays inside the conference room even after his brother leaves, sitting there in his own silence and watching the rest of his friends. Dmitri is smiling widely, pressing kisses to both his boyfriend’s and brother’s cheeks and squeezing their hands. He’s much happier today than he’s been, and Niklas finds a certain comfort in his friend’s happiness. 

 

His eyes move over to where Mikkel and Koenraad sit. The girl, Koenraad’s sister, is talking exuberantly to Mikkel, and the latter seems just as happy as she to listen. Koenraad seems to be making small talk with the other male, his brother, and Niklas strains to read their lips. It’s none of his business, no, but he’s curious as to what the younger could be saying to make Koenraad’s lips curl into a smile. 

 

“...-ut it’s not that bad. I feel like i’ve gotten a lot of experience.” 

 

“That’s good, Luca,” Koenraad replies, and Niklas tries to decipher if this about a job or about school, “as long as you’re enjoying yourself and doing what you want.” 

 

“And making money,” the younger teases. 

 

“No,” Koenraad replies seriously, and Niklas is surprised. Mikkel had mentioned once that having money was very important to the man. “You do what you enjoy doing and what makes you happy. Don’t worry about whether or not you’re going to make the most money from your career.” His brother, Luca, frowns at that. 

 

“You’re usually the first to say money makes the world go ‘round. What’s with the change of heart?” Koenraad looks up, and for a moment Niklas swears he’s looking straight at him. He can’t tug his eyes away, and he feels his face start to heat up. 

 

“Doing things just for a buck won’t do you any good. You’ll end up like me. Do things you won’t regret in life.” Niklas’ eyes widen, and he can finally turn his head away. 

 

By the time the conference room is cleared of patients and guests, it’s almost time for dinner. Mikkel is energized, enthusiastically telling Niklas about his conversation with Lise. Niklas nods, offers noncommittal noises to show he’s listening. But he’s not truly listening. His thoughts are lingering back to what Koenraad had said. He had told his brother to do things he wouldn’t regret and not to worry about earning a buck. And Koenraad had looked directly at him when he had said it, hadn’t he? He stands suddenly, and Mikkel startles, asking him if he’s okay. He doesn’t give a response but leaves instead, down the hallway.

 

Niklas doesn’t have much of an inkling as to where he’s going. In fact, he doesn’t have any clue where he’s going. He aimlessly marches down the hallway, looking at names written on dry erase boards hanging on the door. He’s not sure why he’s doing this, what the true purpose behind his actions are, but his body is on auto-pilot. He comes across the door he’s been searching for, the one that says Koenraad B. on the outside in blue marker. A deep breath in, and he raises his hand to knock. He doesn’t get the chance. Koenraad opens the door and looks nearly as surprised to see him as Niklas does. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Koenraad asks in his low, gruff voice. Niklas stares at him stupidly, mouth slightly agape. He doesn’t have an answer, he realizes lamely, and Koenraad looks thoroughly annoyed. His body stiffens, and he wills himself to relax so his throat will open once again and he can find his voice.

 

“I’m here to see you,” he replies in a firm voice. Koenraad arches a brow, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

 

“Okay. You see me. You got something to say? Wanna tell me why you were listening to my conversation with my little brother?” Yes, Niklas wants to talk about the conversation, but he can’t give Koenraad a reason as to why he felt the need to listen in.

 

“You told him not to do what will make him a buck if it won’t make him happy. Aren’t you all about money, though? Mikkel had said you were.” He makes an effort to make his voice sound pointed, sharp, and Koenraad’s reaction makes it worth it. His brows furrow and his frown deepens. 

 

“I’m all about money so that my siblings never have to worry about having money or not. Because if I have money to spare, they can do what makes them happiest in life.” Niklas hates the realization that they are far too alike than he has hoped. 

 

“Why? Why don’t you want to do what makes you happy in life?” Koenraad cocks his head, his expression going completely neutral, unreadable, undetectable. It makes Niklas feel uneasy, insecure. He can’t tell what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, and it’s a state of vulnerability he’s never felt before in his life.

 

“Making sure my siblings are happy and healthy and able to have the life they want, they deserve, is what makes me happy in life. I don’t care if I have to work some shitty desk job, pushing papers. If it makes me money, if it keeps me wealthy enough to care for the two of them and their endeavors, then I truly am the richest man on the planet.” 

 

Niklas finds Koenraad’s words to be strangely beautiful and poetic. Cliche, yes, but said so in a way that shows his passion, his true desire to do everything for his family. And that was what Niklas had been about in life, hadn’t it? To get himself a better career making more money so his little brother could have the life he deserved. They are one and the same, he and Koenraad, and it is chilling, titillating. He feels uneasy, nervous, and he wonders what it is about this man that makes him feel so big and so small. 

 

He feels Koenraad’s eyes boring into the top of his head, searing into his brain and pulling him abruptly from his thoughts. He looks up at him, unsure of what he’s supposed to respond with, unsure why he felt the burning desire to come find him and ask him why he would say one thing and then do another, why he would openly contradict himself to prove a point to his brother, why it was so important to him. 

 

His mouth feels dry. 

 

“Niklas,” he’s certain this is the first time Koenraad’s said his name. “Why does it matter so much to you? Why do you need to know if i’m either money hungry or a decent person? What about it is so important to you?” 

 

“Because we’re the same,” he replies. And he laughs. He laughs deeply and loudly, and he knows he looks insane, but he can’t stop, he doesn’t want to stop. It feels good to laugh, to feel some inane sense of happiness, something so allusive to him. 

 

“We’re the same?” Niklas smiles at him.

 

“I’ve been trying to figure you out, Koenraad, trying to figure out if I hate you. Why I felt I needed to hate you. It’s because we’re the same. Trying to help our siblings, give them the life they deserve, make them happy. Because we think- we hope- it will bring us the same kind of happiness. It won’t. I know it won’t. I know it now, looking at you. You said it yourself.” Koenraad doesn’t look at him like he’s insane but instead as though he finds this exchange to be amusing and educational. Niklas continues.

 

“You said ‘you’ll end up like me. Do things you won’t regret in life’. That’s what you meant, wasn’t it? That you know regardless of how much pleasure their happiness brings you that you’re already fucked. You’re already miserable, passed the idea of happiness. You aren’t doing what you want in fear that you won’t be able to take care of them and they’ll struggle. You don’t want them to struggle like you. Just like I don’t want Dagfinn- my brother- to struggle like I have.” 

 

“Do you truly believe it goes that deep?” Koenraad isn’t mocking him. It’s less of a direct question and more open ended, but Niklas nods anyhow. He receives a sigh in retort.

 

“I know it goes that deep,” Niklas tells him, “I know because we’re-”

 

“-one and the same, yeah, I got it. You caught me, Niklas.”

 

“Caught you?” Niklas doesn’t feel that should be the correct phrasing of what has happened, but then again he has yet to hear the man speak directly. 

 

“Yes, caught me. I said it to you, what I told my brother, because I knew why you were truly here. You’re as miserable as me, wanting to lessen the burden of being the stability of the family. Always being the stability. And you’re severely unstable. Sensitive and scared and so fucking overwhelmed.” Koenraad’s words pierce through his very core, and he decides he hates having someone understand him this deeply, this severely. He’s never felt so vulnerable, so insignificant, and he knows Koenraad feels the exact same way in this very moment.

 

“And then you stop being the stability,” Niklas tells him with a whisper, “you stop being the stability. You take a step back and let them be yours.” Koenraad looks at him and he has to bite his lip to keep from gasping at just how utterly helpless and exhausted he looks.

 

“It’s hard to let them be the stability when you know they’re cracking.” Niklas gives him a sad smile and puts a hand on his shoulders.

 

“They’ll still do it, still be our rock, because we’ve already broke.”  


End file.
